


The Monster under the Stairs

by MarchnoGirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bullied Harry Potter, Canon Related, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Petunia seems human, Redeemed Dudley Dursley, Referenced Fat Shaming, Slurs, pov Dudley Dursley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 08:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17783897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarchnoGirl/pseuds/MarchnoGirl
Summary: Dudley Dursley was used to think of Harry Potter as a Monster.His view will change after his encounter with the Dementors.





	The Monster under the Stairs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ununquadius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununquadius/gifts).



> When I saw the prompt that [Ununquadius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununquadius/pseuds/ununquadius) posted on Tumblr, I immediately connected with it and tried to write it. I hope you'll like it Unu, and everyone else too! 
> 
> **Disclaimer** : All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> I need to scream at the wonderful [Shannon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermione18802), who betaed this and encouraged me.❤️

**1987**

“Mum, Andrew at school says that he saw a monster in his room last night! He says that the monster came out of his wardrobe and that it stank, and it had big red eyes, and and and he says that the monster wanted to take him away from his parents, and –” Dudley was barely breathing through his telling, fidgeting with his hands.

“Ssssh, Diddykins, Mummy’s here.” Petunia sat next to Dudley on the bed, smiling and encircling him in a tight hug. She wiped his tears with her thumb, planting a kiss on his forehead. “At your age, you use a lot of imagination honey, he must be inventing it all.”

Dudley was silently sobbing, swaying in his mother’s arms. “But Mum, he said it was true, he swore on our friendship!”

Petunia sighed and caressed his son’s head, little movements to calm him. “All right. I’ll tell you the real story, then, shall I?” she had a big smile plastered on her face and Dudley immediately felt reassured. He lay down in his bed, his Mum covering him up with blankets like a cocoon.

She opened her mouth, but Dudley beat her on time, “Can you tell me that story, like, tomorrow? Tonight, I want the story about that little girl who created flowers with her hands!” Petunia’s eyes widened for a fraction of second; she turned her head towards the door so fast it creaked and once she saw no one was there, she looked down at Dudley again. She put a finger on her mouth, “What did I say to you Diddykins? That’s our secret, you can’t tell Dad about this story.” Dudley nodded, moving his head on the pillow. He loved to have a secret to share with his Mummy.

_“Once upon a time, in a place called Hogwarts far far away…”_

*****

The day after, when Dudley entered home, he threw the schoolbag on the floor of the kitchen, shouting at his mother, “Mum! Andrew told me that story again and he said tonight that, that _thing,_ is gonna come for me!” She glanced forward, towards Harry. He was cleaning the living room but stopped when he heard Dudley’s tantrum.

“What are you looking at?” Dudley spat, crossing his arms. He didn’t like his cousin, he was always so silent and had a stupid face and really, that scar on his forehead looked so dumb. In his classroom there was a kid who was always with a teacher of his own; the other teachers used to say he was “mentally retarded”, and Harry reminded Dudley of that kid.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth worked, then closed. Petunia approached him, and with a reproachful tone, she admonished: “Keep cleaning, Harry, in an hour I want you in your cupboard. We have guests tonight.”

Harry just gave back a tight nod and returned to his duties. That was what he was good at, after all. Dudley picked up his school bag and rushed to his room, his Mum closely behind.

She entered the room and puffed his cheek, trying to be comforting, “Diddykins, it won’t try to take you, I promise you.”

“How can you be sure?” Dudley pursued his lips down and crushed the end of his shirt with his hands, standing in the middle of the room. Petunia winked, taking her son’s hands and stroking them, “I’ll tell you a secret tonight, before bed, okay? It’s about the Monster.”

Dudley could already feel excitement thrumming in his veins, another secret to share with his Mum! She was the coolest!   
He got ready for their dinner with their guests with renewed energy, hoping the time would fly fast.

Once ready, Dudley went down the stairs; He was slowly walking to the kitchen, no more signs of Harry. When he passed by Harry’s cupboard, he kicked the door for good measure and heard his cousin kicking back, mumbling something. Good, locked as usual.

He was so excited about his Mum’s story that he almost didn’t eat – that meant he _only_ ate two dishes and three slices of cake, instead of his regular six.  
Petunia was worried sick by the time Dudley called her for the bed story time.

She entered his room with a hot cup of milk and some biscuits on a saucer. She placed them on the bedside table and caressed Dudley’s cheek, a frown on her forehead. “Is everything okay, Diddykins? You didn’t eat anything.”

Dudley looked at her from under the sheets that were covering him up his nose. “No, Mum, it’s just – I, um, I want to know about your story, you know, I’m worried that the Monster…t-the Monster…”

Petunia smiled and opened a drawer of the bedside table, taking out a tiny book that wasn’t there that afternoon, Dudley was sure of it. She held it in front of him: “The Monster Under the Stairs.” It had dog ears and it looked ruined, all crumpled; the cover was bright red with a drawing – more similar to a sketch – of wooden stairs and a padlocked box under them.

“This is a book my family have inherited for centuries now. It’s precious, treat it carefully, okay?” Dudley just nodded shaking his head, the emotion cut off his voice. Petunia smiled and opened the first page so that he could see it.

There was the drawing of a child sleeping in his bed, a large wardrobe in front of it and a window overlooking a big full moon. Petunia started reading:

 _This story starts with you, little star of my heart._  
_You were sleeping, smiling in your dreams,_  
_The moon high in the sky, no need for a chart,  
Remembering stories of old queens._

She flicked the page. New picture: the closet doors were open, a little skeletal hand coming out of it. The Monster! Dudley quickly shut closed his eyes, and Petunia brushed her hand on them and kept reading:

 _But that night, there was a presence in the dark,_  
_It was waiting for the right night._  
_In the wardrobe, came noises and a bark,  
Mummy and Dad, completely out of sight!_

Dudley pressed his eyelids harder closed, terrified by the possibility of seeing the Monster coming out of his own wardrobe at any minute. Petunia placed a soothing hand on Dudley’s shoulder, saying: “Diddy, don’t worry. This story won’t end well for the Monster! Do you trust Mummy?” Well, if there was someone he trusted, it was his Mum. He let out a feeble “Yes” opening his eyes and she resumed, flipping another page.

This time the horrible Monster showed in the book, jumping out of the wardrobe. It was all black, tiny and skeletal, just like his hand, and there was hair on all his body, particularly rumpled on his head, making him look almost funny. Dudley smiled: it wasn’t that scary!

 _BANG! The Monster jumped out,_  
_It was all black, tiny and hairy._  
_A putrid smell made you shout,_  
_It climbed on the bed as if you were wary!  
But, WOW!_

Mum’s face morphed into one of surprise, eyebrows high, mouth open, eyes bright. She exclaimed, “Look, look what happens now, Diddykins!”  
Petunia flicked again the pages, showing the image of a knight entering the child’s room wielding a sword against the monster.

Dudley sat up straight in an instant, clapping his hands. “A knight, a knight!!”

 _Daddy arrived too, no one could touch his son!_  
_He took out his sword and the Monster captured!_  
_“You horrible Monster, don’t you dare run,_  
_You’ll never touch a Dursley, as we are exalted,_  
_Or the rest of your existence  
Pains and sorrows you’ll live!”_

Dudley cried out, “Daddy!!! Daddy saved him! He’s so strong, he’s a hero!” He was bouncing on the bed and Petunia laughed lightly. She turned the last page, “Yes honey, and look,” It was the happy ending: the Dad-knight locked the Monster into a box and placed it under the stairs in their home. The child and his Mum were cheering behind him with big smiles on their faces.

 _Here is the end, the curse had been broken_  
_You were safe again in Mummy’s hug,_  
_The Monster was under the stairs, in a box, unwroken,  
The Dursley’s would now forever be snug._

Dudley threw up his arms in triumph and Petunia closed the book. “You see, Diddykins, this happened a long time ago. Since then our family has lived happily and no monster has ever attacked us!”

Dudley smiled and hugged his Mum, who immediately returned the hug, starting to lull him. Then a thought occurred to him, “Mum, where is the box now? What if someone opens it?”

Petunia kissed him on the head and loosened the hug, looking him in the eyes. “Oh no, honey, that’s impossible. Every time the male heir of the Dursley family turns of age, he takes charge of looking after the box. Your Daddy is keeping an eye on it, don’t worry!”

Dudley relaxed in her arms and revelled in the news he had just heard. “Dad is strong, he’s my hero. If he’s taking care of it, I’m not afraid!” Petunia’s eyes crinkled and she helped him get under the sheets to go to sleep. Kissing Dudley on the forehead, she wished him a good night.

Before she could leave the room, Dudley called out, “Thanks for reading the story, Mum. The Monster won’t come, right?”

Petunia, who was already halfway out of the door, turned and said softly, “It won’t.”

Dudley couldn’t see her close the door; he fell asleep before he could blink.

 

The morning after, Dudley woke up alone in his bed at 9 a.m, in time to head down to his Mother’s scheduled breakfast. She used to schedule everything, to keep the order, she said.

While descending the stairs, a sudden thought struck him. He froze with a foot mid-hair, his eyes widening.  
‘The Monster under the stairs! These must be _the_ stairs! The Monster is under _our_ stairs!’ With thoughts racing in his head, he scrambled through the last steps.

He was rushing to the kitchen, impatient to ask his Mother if the Monster lived in their own home, when Harry crawled out of his cupboard, eyes still groggy, hair a mess… Dudley gasped loudly, making Harry halt in front of him.

He took in his messy hair, his skeletal figure, more evident due to the oversized clothes, the fact he was living _under the stairs_ … Could it be more obvious than this?

Dudley shouted in his face, “You’re the Monster!” and ran for the kitchen, leaving behind a puzzled Harry, still scratching sleep off his eyes.

*****

It was decided. Dudley checked several times starting that day.

He would take the book from his bedside table and look at the images: a tiny Monster with hair sticking out in every direction was there every time.  
Harry fit the description of the Monster in the book perfectly.  
Dad must have tamed him well, and it actually would explain a lot of things about his weird behaviours.

Dudley would then look at his hands, holding the book, and he would feel useless. He hadn’t small, bony hands like that horrible Monster, or Harry; He had big, strong hands and it hit him. It was time to make good things with them. He decided he must be as brave as his Father and started planning how to harass Harry, to discourage him to ever think he could take over his family and become strong again.

Every morning, he would come down the stairs beating hard on them with his feet, to scare Harry, hoping some dust would land on his face from the ceiling of his cupboard.   
He would occasionally push his dish off of the table, break his glasses, stand on his feet, shove him against walls, terrify whoever tried to befriend him at school. His parents never scolded him for it; To be honest, they seemed satisfied. They probably understood he was trying to keep the Monster in place, and appreciated his help.

Good. He wanted to be respected and strong and as brave as his Father and the ones before him.

***

**1991**

Time passed and Dudley understood some things. He figured out in the end that his Mother wrote “The Monster Under The Stairs” out of nowhere, but he was glad she did. It helped him sleep well and feel confident about himself.

Anyway, by the time he understood those things, he’d already created some habits that gave him confidence and made him feel fine with himself and he didn’t want to change them.  
What he realised, soon after he’d associated Harry with the Monster, was that all the little ones, scrappy children, fragile, with glasses, the most silent, would probably be Monsters for other people, so Dudley decided he would stand up against them. It felt good to pinch and prod them, to shove their heads into the toilets at school, to hit them, steal their snacks or their money: He felt strong, respected, feared. It was the right thing to do and he even had some friends who listened to him and did what he said, so that he had his own Monster hunting squad. They would often target Harry for their misdeeds and they succeeded sometimes, even though Harry was so tiny that most of the time he was too fast for them. No harm done, he would have his go at home.

Everything changed the day Harry turned 11 years old. Dudley didn’t understand what happened, but apparently Harry would be starting to attend some freak school for Monsters like him. Anyway, thanks to that, he would be far from home, 10 months a year, so it was a good thing, Dudley supposed.

During the summer, when Harry would come back home, Dudley would always try to pinch him as usual, but he seemed stronger and more confident throughout the years, and then he started reacting and answering back to his parents. Sometimes, some of his freak Monster friends would show up at their home, too and his parents seemed terrified by them all.

*****

**1995**

By the time Dudley turned 15, he was sick of this situation: Harry was meant to come back to fear him, in one way or another.

He had the opportunity to make Harry remember who was in charge one night, after returning home. His friends had departed shortly before, and he was walking alone through Magnolia Crescent, when Harry came out of nowhere, taunting him.  
He was practically _asking_ for it. And Dudley knew how to hit him; During the nights he’d heard Harry crying, saying some guy’s name “Cedric”. Of course he would be gay on top of everything else. It was disgusting.

Dudley mocked him, repeating his words: “Don’t kill Cedric! Don’t kill Cedric! Who’s Cedric – your boyfriend?” But then Harry took out his fucking wooden stick, the one that seemed to give him weird Monster powers, and the sky went dark. A thick fog raised, and a chill sent shivers down his spine. It wasn’t a good sign. He punched Harry and started running, to get as far as he could from him but he didn’t get far enough.

After few feet, Dudley saw _it_ . He had no idea what the fuck was going on, but it must have been a real Monster, the kind he couldn’t fight.  
He yelled, trying to beat the damn thing away, but it managed to force open his mouth, a putrid smell coming from the thing, and Dudley fell to the ground, a deep sadness filling his lungs. He started hearing voices inside his head, always more insistent, shouting, whispering, haunting him:

_You’re fat! Ahahaha fat, fat, fat, fat_

_Porky porky PORKY_

_Look at your lard arse!_

_Fat fat fat FAT_

_You look like an enormous pig walking on his hind legs!_

_Do you think you scare me? You’re the laughing stock in school!_

_Big D? I bet you are, how much do you weight, a boat and a half?_

_No one likes you!_

_You’ll be alone for the rest of your life, you chubster!_

All the worst moments of Dudley’s life flashed in his mind, moments where he’d felt useless, like the smallest living being on Earth, too ugly, too fat, stupid, alone…

His heartbeat raced, the cold crept deeper into his bones and he couldn’t find the voice to scream and ask for help.

‘PLEASE HELP ME, SOMEONE HELP ME, I DON’T WANT TO DIE ALONE, HELP ME!’ he thought.

Until he saw Harry producing something, a blue light, a stag? And his mind cleared.

Next thing he remembered, was his home. Mum perched behind him, talking hysterically, her voice stumbling on the words, “Who did it, son? Give us names. We’ll get them, don’t worry.”

Dudley didn’t remember. He couldn’t remember what the fuck happened earlier, and he just did what was familiar to him. He pointed at Harry, someone he’d associated with Monsters and bad things for all his life.

“Him.”

*****

**1997**

Dudley was packing his belongings to go and hide with those “Order people”. He was frightened by the entire situation and his hands were trembling, along with his sight that was slowly blurring. But he would not cry. He could get through it.

When he’d finished, he looked round his room, feeling nostalgic and miserable. He didn’t want to leave this house and his comforts, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He was staring at his Mike Tyson poster above his bed, when his eyes fell to his bedside table. There was a specific drawer he hadn’t opened since that accident with Harry two years before. He rushed to it and opened the drawer, holding his breath.

“The Monster Under the Stairs” popped out, covered in dust and Dudley sneezed several times before he could take it out. He stared with clouded eyes at it, brain buzzing. He stood up, holding the book and found himself in front of the mirror next to his wardrobe.

He thought of his early years, how he used to think he was cool because he was strong and beat up little kids all the time. How he used to think of Harry as a Monster. And now Harry was about to fight his own Monster, a real one.

Dudley locked his eyes onto the ones of his reflection and for the first time he saw the actual Monster of his life. He flicked his eyes down and stared at his hands, those hands that had procured pain and wounds to a lot of people. Too many times. He suddenly realised that he probably looked like a Monster to Harry too.

He needed to change things. He had known for a while now, but it was becoming more unbearable with time. He needed to stop using his hands to hurt. If Harry could fight his Monster, then Dudley could too.

He reached the others at the front door of his house, heart hammering in his chest. Harry said something about how he’s used to being considered a waste of space and Dudley’s eyes lit up. He wasn’t good with words or feelings, and he didn’t know if it was enough, but he tried it anyway.

With a loud voice, he said, “I don’t think you’re a waste of space.”

He felt himself growing red and hot in the face immediately after, but it was worth it. Harry looked as baffled at least as much as himself.

He stared at his hands again and stretched one towards Harry. He took and shook it.

There were no more monsters in Dudley’s life.

**Author's Note:**

> This was Ununquadius' prompt: 
> 
> "The title is “The Monster Under The Stairs” so it’s a Dudley POV fic about Harry and how he learns to see him as a monster since a young age. But after the events with the dementors he’ll learn that the true monsters were above the stairs."
> 
> Thanks for reading my take on this! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are welcomed.❤️
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://drarryruinedme7.tumblr.com/) or [LJ](https://drarryruinedme7.livejournal.com/).


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